


Weather the Storm

by mallardeer



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, Sharing a Bed, my favorite trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 10:54:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13006278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mallardeer/pseuds/mallardeer
Summary: James and Lena find themselves in the midst of a snowstorm, at a lonely motel, in a room with only one bed. What. Will. Happen?





	Weather the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> It's winter, y'all, and I LIVE for this trope, and sure, this isn't the pairing I thought I'd write this for either, but here we are!

What’s already been a long drive becomes even longer as snow starts to fall. “Oh, are you fucking kidding me?” James mutters, flipping on the windshield wipers. 

“I’m happy to drive, James,” Lena offers, trying to keep the archness out of her voice, but her affability reservoirs are all but dry after the frustrating weekend they’ve had. 

“Don’t worry about it,” James says in his best “capable professional” voice. “We’ll be back in National City before we know it.”

“Famous last words,” Lena thinks and manages not to say out loud. 

She can’t suppress a small sigh, though, as she huddles back into the passenger seat. This media conference was supposed to have been a weekend for them to collaborate, for her to learn more about the business, for him to see she had valuable ideas about running Cat Grant’s media empire—which, really, is now her media empire.

Instead, they had oh so politely butted heads on practically every topic, and now the decision to drive up north together—so practical at first—was beginning to seem like the biggest mistake she’d made since purchasing Catco. 

James hunches forward, trying to get a better look at the road, which is fast becoming white and slick. The wind begins to pick up as well; Lena can feel the car shuddering. And she does trust that James is a capable driver, but this is terrible weather. “Let me know if you see a gas station or somewhere to pull over,” James grunts, and Lena promises she will. 

They’re on a lonely stretch of road, however—a state highway James had insisted would be faster than taking the busy interstate. The road dips and turns, and the snowfall gets heavier, as James grips the wheel tightly and inches around each bend. 

Finally, though, they reach a stretch of businesses: a gas station, a strip mall consisting of a dentist’s office and a nail salon, and a lonely roadside motel. James pulls into the gas station, and Lena lets out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding for the past hour. 

“Come in and warm up,” he invites, opening her door. The smile he offers is tired but genuine, and she nods and follows him into the gas station convenience store. 

“Some storm, huh?” the cashier greets them. “You all far from home?”

“Yeah, we’re on our way back to National City,” James says as Lena heads straight for the pour your own coffee counter. 

The cashier whistles. “I wouldn’t try to make it all the way there tonight. This storm’s supposed to last till tomorrow afternoon, all the way down the coast.”

Lena frowns and turns to look at their talkative new friend, as James sighs and glances questioningly at her. It’s already past seven o’clock, and they’re still three hours from home—at least. 

“I’ve been sending everyone to the motel next door,” the cashier offers, and James thanks him.

Lena pays for her coffee and follows James back out to the car. “We’ve gone about ten miles in the last hour,” he tells her. “Probably best if we stay at the motel.”

“Probably,” she agrees absently, hardly looking forward to a night in a strange motel with someone she’s been arguing with for the last 48 hours. But the prospect of more than three hours of trying to drive out of this storm makes the motel seem almost inviting. 

So James drives them over to the parking lot, which is surprisingly full. The VACANCY sign is still lit, fortunately, so they go into the lobby. At the desk, the clerk tells them they’re in luck—they have one room left for the night. “We’ll take it,” James says, relief in his voice, and Lena sips her coffee and waits for the clerk to get them a key. 

“This feels very…Psycho,” Lena mutters, as they grab their suitcases from the trunk.

“Doesn’t it?” James agrees with a laugh. Ever since he’s realized he won’t have to drive home in this blizzard, he’s become much friendlier. “But the place is full; that guy at the desk looked nothing like Tony Perkins, and you’re not alone. Nothing to worry about!” 

Lena almost believes him until he unlocks the door, and they discover their room only has one full-sized bed. They hurry inside anyway, as the wind has picked up quite a bit, and neither one of them is wearing anything fit for winter weather. 

“Well. We’ll…work something out,” James says, firmly shutting the door behind them. 

“I’m sure,” Lena says dryly. She gives the room a cursory inspection, and though everything is old and showing its wear, it at least seems to be clean. 

The bathroom is sparkling white, which is a huge relief, and she shuts herself in, suddenly desperate for a moment alone. She stands in front of the sink and listens to James putter about the room, opening drawers and testing the creaking springs of the bed. 

“It would be rude to ask him to sleep on the floor,” she tells herself, but a full bed is tight quarters, and she doesn’t think she can bear being that close to another human being, never mind James, for whom she alternatively feels genuine fondness and complete exasperation. 

Eventually, she emerges to find him sitting on the end of the bed watching the Weather Channel. “Good work, grampa,” she says, attempting some friendly teasing, and she is almost shocked when he just turns to her with a grin. 

“Just call me Ol’ Man Olsen,” he says cheerfully, and she cocks her head quizzically at him.

“Jimmy,” she says, using the nickname he’d offered her—starting her journey of confusion. “Are you…having fun? Trapped in this rundown motel in a blizzard?”

He shrugs, but his eyes are shining. “It’s an adventure! And it’s much better than driving in this mess. Or arguing about how to run a magazine.” He smiles up at her, and she shakes her head. “Also, I was going to call down to the desk for some extra pillows and blankets. I can sleep on the floor, no worries.”

She thinks about making at least an attempt to protest, but he waves her away before she can even open her mouth. So she shrugs and sits at the small table in the corner of the room with her coffee. As she pulls out her tablet, James flips off the TV, muttering about the snow, and says he’ll be back in a bit. 

He comes back with one pillow and one thin blanket, and she can see all the swallowed complaints in his face. “I got the last ones,” he says, with a shrug, and she just nods. 

“Do you want to see if we can manage to scrounge a meal from the gas station?” she suggests. 

“You stay here,” he says, and she bristles at his chivalry. “It’s miserable out there.”

“I can manage, thank you,” she says, in clipped tones. 

“Suit yourself,” he replies, and she instantly regrets her bravado when he opens the door and a gust of wind brings snow into the room. 

Inwardly, she curses herself. She wants to be able to like James, who is Kara’s friend, who is running the company she owns. And sometimes she does, very much. But then he tries to be kind, and he smiles a small smile at her, and she feels something she can’t name, and so she reacts as if he’s patronizing her.

James is holding the door open, and she can’t change her mind now, so she just hunches down into her too-thin jacket and follows him to the gas station. Several couples and families seem to have the same idea, and there are kids cleaning out the hot food and throwing bags of potato chips at each other. 

James dashes for the beer cooler, and Lena smirks—but probably getting drunk is the best way to get through this night. She decides to buy supplies based on the philosophy “what would Kara do?” and collects an armload of chips and candy. When she meets up with James in the long line at the register, he is delighted. “Excellent provisioning, Ms. Luthor,” he says brightly, and she laughs. 

“Same to you, Mr. Olsen,” she replies, as he happily holds up two six-packs. 

As they wait in line, James easily makes small talk with parents and kids alike. Lena marvels at his ease with people; the best she can do is stand beside him and try to smile warmly. But no one’s ever called a Luthor “warm”. Still, everyone seems very friendly, as if they’re all on a shared adventure instead of foraging for unsatisfactory dinners at a gas station and spending the night in an old motel.

Finally, they pay and hurry back to their room. The cold wind nearly takes Lena’s breath away, and she slips as they dash across the parking lot. James, juggling the beers, steadies her with a hand on her elbow, and guides her safely the rest of the way to their room. Part of her still wants to reject his chivalry, but most of her is happy to let him help. Falling on her ass certainly won’t protect her pride. 

“Man, I haven’t been in a storm like this since college,” James says, setting the beer on top of the bureau. “Mind if I crank the thermostat?”

“Not at all,” Lena says gratefully, and dumps her bags of junk food on the table.

While he fiddles with the heat, she goes to the bathroom to change into dry clothes, and just as she emerges, the lights flicker. “Oh no, no,” she groans.

“No worries, power’s still going strong,” James says, gamely still trying to make the best of everything.

Lena nods and joins him at the table, perching on the edge of the bed. He hands her a beer, and she tosses him a bag of Cheetos, and they toast to their horrible dinner. James puts on the Weather Channel again, apparently reveling in Lena’s calling him grampa, but then he changes it to the Food Network, mostly for some background noise. 

After they eat as much processed food snacks as they can stomach, James goes rummaging around in the bedside table and finds a pack of cards. Lena opens a package of M&Ms, and they somehow agree at the same time to pass their night playing blackjack. 

At first, Lena is fidgety, jumping at every noise outside their door. She couldn’t stand being in this place without power, in this unseasonable weather. She loses several hands in a row, and James eventually takes the deck from her. 

“You okay?” he asks, his voice gentle, and part of her hates his solicitousness—but the bigger part of her is grateful for it.

“Just…kind of nervous, all the way out here in the middle of nowhere,” she says, trying to keep her voice light.

He nods. “It’s a dangerous night out there for sure, but we’re safe inside, and we have candy and beer, and tomorrow we’ll be home, and you’ll never have to spend another weekend with me again.” 

She laughs a bit ruefully as he deals out their next game. “It wasn’t so bad,” she says tentatively. “The dinner on Saturday was nice.”

“Mmm,” James agrees absently. “They made good cocktails at that place.”

“It is…worth it for us to keep trying to figure out how to work together, isn’t it?” she asks, biting her lip. 

He looks up at her, surprised. “Of course it is. Lena, you’re the only reason Catco still exists. I’m definitely all in on our partnership.”

“You’re just too stubborn to admit I have any good ideas,” she accuses, but she’s smiling, and he just winks at her. 

“Don’t talk to me about stubborn, Lena Luthor,” he taunts, and she taps on the table for another card. 

“Twenty-one,” she says, smirking, and he pushes a pile of M&Ms toward her.

In an hour or so, Lena has amassed nearly all the M&Ms, and James is amusingly drunk. She’s forgotten all about the terrible weather—and their terrible conference experience. 

“How are you so good at this?” he demands, and then hiccups, and Lena feels something warm in her chest. 

“I can count cards,” she lies, and delights in the way his face contorts with mock rage.

“Cheater!” he accuses, and then laughs till he falls over. 

“All right, Jimmy,” she says, as he sits back up. “Maybe we should just go to bed.”

“Yeah. Then we can get an early start in the morning,” he agrees. 

So they clean up and take their turns in the bathroom, and then James constructs his meager bed on the floor. Lena sits on the real bed and sighs, knowing it’s really not fair to make him sleep on the floor—especially since he’d been driving all day. “James,” she starts to say, and the lights flicker again.

They blaze back on, flicker once more, and then go out with a pfft of finality. “Aw. Shit,” James mutters. 

“Get in the bed,” Lena says. “There’s no way you can sleep on the floor in the cold.”

“I’ll be fine,” he tries to insist, but Lena gets up, grabs his pillow and blanket, and puts them on the bed. 

He grumbles a little, but pushes himself to his feet and gingerly sits on the other side of the bed. “You can put your pillow in between us, for chastity’s sake,” she teases, and he guffaws and finally gets into the bed. 

“Well. I hope you get some sleep, Lena,” he says, as she settles beside him. 

“Same to you, James,” she replies, and they both fall silent. 

The howling wind outside sounds almost sinister now that they’ve been robbed of the warmth of yellow bedside lights and the familiar hum of the television. Lena instinctively huddles closer to James, and he yawns and puts his arm across her waist. “So much for the chastity pillow,” she mutters, and he laughs sleepily. 

“Keepin’ you warm,” he mumbles, and in a matter of minutes, he’s fallen asleep. 

James’s arm around her and the sound of his gentle snores somehow manage to soothe her, and before she can waste time worrying about the storm—or what’s happening with James—she has also fallen asleep. 

It seems only minutes later that they both wake up, startled by the blaze of light and the noise of the TV as the power comes back. James reels back as soon as he realizes he’s been spooning her, embarrassedly mumbling an apology. “It’s fine,” she yawns, and her body yearns for the return of his warmth. 

He stumbles out of bed and shuts off the TV and the lights, and she watches him, tall and shadowy now, hesitate at the edge of the bed. “Oh, just get back in here. It’s still freezing,” she says, trying desperately to mask how badly she wants his arms around her. 

“Are you sure?” he asks quietly, his voice heavy with something she hasn’t heard before. 

“Jimmy, yes,” she sighs, and he carefully climbs back into bed. 

Before she can think about it, she huddles against him, and he lets out a breath and pulls her closer. “Just…keeping you warm, right,” he says.

“Yes,” she says quietly, and shuts her eyes. 

She can feel the tenseness in James’s arm around her now, and sleep seems very distant. “Is this too weird for you?” she asks him, and she feels his sigh in the hair on her neck. 

“It’s not weird for you?” he returns, and she sighs and turns to face him. 

She can’t see his face in the dark, but it’s better than talking at the wall. “We are…friends, aren’t we?” she asks. 

“Argumentative friends?” he suggests, and she laughs. 

“Yes. Friends who will never agree on anything.”

“But who are totally cool with spooning in a random motel bed?”

“Yes. For tonight,” she says.

“Okay,” he says softly, and they settle against each other as before.

James’s arm stays tense around her waist, though. “Thank you,” she says, and he mumbles an acknowledgement. “Not for this—I mean… For…making this an adventure. For being cheerful and buying beer and playing M&M blackjack. For keeping me from completely losing it in the middle of a blizzard.”

“Oh,” he says, unconsciously drawing her closer. His chest is pressed against her back now, and she sinks into the warmth he radiates. “Well. It was actually kind of fun.”

“Mmm,” she agrees, as sleep suddenly becomes much less distant. 

“Goodnight, Lena,” he says, and she’s out like a light.

When she next wakes up, she finds herself practically draped over James, head nestled beneath his chin, her right leg flung over his legs. Mortified, she tries to scramble out of bed, but he pulls her back. “Too early to get up,” he says, half-asleep, and though she remains embarrassed, she surrenders to whatever part of her that crawled half on top of James in the middle of the night. 

She lets her head fall back to his chest, and he is already fast asleep. It is so strange how normal this feels, to be tangled up with this man, to let him hold her. Perhaps…well, best not to think too much right now.

Somehow, she falls back to sleep, only waking up as he tries to carefully extricate himself from her embrace maybe an hour or two later. “Oh. Good morning,” he says sheepishly, as she sits up.

“Good morning,” she laughs. “Sorry to be so clingy.”

“I said I’d keep you warm, huh?” he laughs, ducking his head. 

He is embarrassed, but it’s clear to her that their closeness was not exactly unappealing to him. Her heart flutters as she realizes it was quite appealing to her. 

“You know, James,” she says thoughtfully, watching him refuse to meet her eyes. “I tried to get up a few hours ago, and you wouldn’t let me.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, still not looking at her, and she knows he knows full well what he did. 

She’d felt safe last night for the first time in a long time. Safe with him, the man she can’t not argue with. But he’s also the man who takes her seriously and respects her as a colleague and a boss. He’s kind and quick with a smile, smart and strong, and stubborn as anything. 

And last night, in the dark and cold, he’d thrown his arm across her waist and held her close. 

She leans up and presses a kiss against his cheek, a clumsy attempt to say thank you, and he catches her around the waist and returns the kiss to her lips. Startled, she starts to pull away, but realizes sinking into the kiss is much, much better. 

When they part, they stare wide-eyed at each other for a moment, before laughing nervously and turning away. “Sorry. Got a little carried away,” James says gruffly. 

“Strange night,” Lena murmurs, but rests her head on his shoulder. “And don’t apologize.”

They sit together on the bed, in their strange limbo, and then both of their phones ring. The real world is calling, and they’d better get back to it.


End file.
